Long Peers Poems
Long Peers Poems. Below are the most popular long Peers by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Peers poems by poem length and keyword.
"Puppets like me, we never age,
Nor do I think I'm some sort of sage.
However, I've noticed troubles over the years,
I'd like to talk about them and some of my peers.
Since I'm over 70 years old now ya know,
For lotsa years I've missed the old show.
The values we taught: honesty, to be kind,
In our culture today are getting harder to find.
Where's Buffalo Bob when we need him so?
I'm still awfully sad that he had to go.
My best friend was so kind, he was so fair,
Isn't a voice like his out there somewhere?
Mr. Bluster still tries to take over Doodyville,
Even though I doubt that he ever really will.
Hyperbole and schemes are in his portfolio,
It's impossible to guess which way he'll go.
Bluster is planning with his pal Dilly Dally,
To take us all down a very dark alley.
Phineas T. hasn't learned very well,
When he told Clarabell ta go ta hell.
He then attempted to conjure an illicit fling
With Princess Summerfall Winterspring.
His continued attacks on our little town,
Will never put beloved Doodyville down.
Now that the Peanut Gallery actually can vote,
Your cheers and values needn't seem so remote.
Truth is, I'm simply an old wooden voice,
America's got issues and you've got a choice.
See ya kids, Howdy Do ta you!"
Vivacious children, drama Queens and Kings
wearing mother rags and big old father hats
One held a pot with a silver spoon for bang
the other held an old guitar bereft of strings
Gathering their peers they opened up the show
in Jimmy's huge garage, a row of plastic chairs
One played the flute the other favored drums
picking up the tune they all began to croon;
Later when the sun emerged behind a blue hole,
the starlet brave and sure wearing filigreed barrettes
sang and clicked her heels to the rhythm a
cacophonous band, playing on and on and on.
May 27, 2021
Many believers find from faith in God that He is "the source, the force and the course" that leads to peace and joy and heaven.
Bill Stafford on Romans 11:34-36
It is what it is; once death is certainty.
He was my night and day for forty-eight years;
as yet he's counted a dear friend among peers.
No matter how small the opportunity -
no matter how distant in eternity -
our kids' achievements from heaven he still cheers.
It is what it is.
It is well with his soul ~ his identity.
It is true, through it all, troubles, doubts and fears
it's fact, we trusted in God with smiles, with tears.
It's redemption through Christ - immortality.
it is what it is.
I’ve heard of kids mocked for the way that they looked
who somehow were able to go to great lengths
to cultivate talents or even to use
their own strange deformities to create strengths.
However, some children cannot rise above
the mockery, and these kids then are brought low.
Their lives are in shambles when they grow up.
Their sad insecurities – they can’t let go.
Kids harelipped, too freckled, abnormal in size.
We say looks don’t matter. Do you think that’s true?
Kids with huge noses, kids with thick glasses:
When asked if looks matter, they'll say they DO.
If children are judging the looks of their peers
by clothing they wear or by color of skin,
or looks that are different from other kids,
this means our society’s living in sin.
We must teach what matters resides in the soul.
Are you a good model for teaching that way?
Do you make remarks about people too fat?
Kids learn by the things that they hear us say.
I have to admit that I’ve let remarks slip,
but my daughter I’d say I taught well on the whole.
She loves God and raises her three children well.
They know that what matters the most is the soul.
Jan. 9, 2023
At the outset of the pandemic, a conspiracy theorist I was dubbed
Like many others who had doubts, an elephant in the room had now arrived
In many families and also friendships, as theorists, we were scrubbed
So five years down the track, I received a message from my seventy six aged accuser,
describing symptoms she has suffered , I believe ,as a result of being a vaccine user
Post operation to replace a dicky knee
immediate pulse rate , two hundred plus or minus thirty three
So what has been prescribed, it's called a beta blocker
keeps the pulse rate somewhere in the ball park
It's still pulsing around, one hundred and forty beats per minute
seemingly to me, still a rather rapid mark
Protection from the "virus" through the jab does not seem at all to exist
with covid reoccurring for this woman more times than the knuckles on the fist
There's also viral meningitis, allergies as well, she wonders is it the jab
what else would have caused it?
Was it forced? Twas a voluntary action,
no government agency enforced it
Here's a statement that she made: I'm fairly healthy compared to all my peers
Does she maintain beliefs about conspiracy theorists?
For me there's now much proof that validates my suspected vaccination fears
Footnote: this woman has decided to have no further vaccinations
Posted on Christmas Eve, happy cuz Trump soon leaves
America finally gets a reprieve from the lies he weaves
Well, pardon ME if you disagree, but he's one and done
He's been pardoning crooks, murderers, daughter & son
giving the phrase, "Who let the dogs out?" the answer
It's the narcissist who infected the country with cancer
It's time for a celebration and Happy New Year to cheer
A new President will reside in the White House next year
Trump will have to vacate his throne. It's been conferred.
No fraud took place or election rigging. That was absurd!
Joe Biden will be moving into 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue
Uniting our country without Trump's drama and ballyhoo
What a poor example he's been as a leader; head of state
America was better off before he said he'd make it great.
Move along with your counterfeit tan and puckered mouth
Take your cocky kids with you as you putt your way South.
Let's hope once he's gone, out great nation will soon heal
with a commander who can keep our ship on an even keel
"Trump's descended into madness," "He's lost his mind"
Recent headlines that his supporters will claim are unkind
but considering the mess he's made of many vital issues,
the only sympathy I can offer them is a box of tissues
The oval office will need steam cleaning and fumigation
No portrait of him to hang. Let him take that to litigation!
It's reported Trump is headed South, to his Florida estate
His new slogan, just released: "Trump 2024 ~ DONATE!"
He's spent more time golfing than acting like a President
His Mar-a-Lago neighbors don't want him as a resident!
The worst possible fraud committed in the last four years
is the fake role he played, condoned by Republican peers
It won't be smooth waters for a while because of the scum
he's left behind; that shameful man, that do-nothing bum
America has been stumbled from each inept Trump blunder
pitting brother against brother; he's ravaged us all asunder
He once said the world was laughing at our great nation
The truth is they laugh at him; a presidential abomination
THE OTHER CHEEK
When they mocked me for my lack of height,
I let it go over my head.
The best things come in small packages,
So my mother said.
Then, when they said I was ugly,
And was looking ten years older,
I shrugged and told them that beauty was
In the eye of the beholder.
When they criticised my social skills
And said I was a geek,
I simply smiled indulgently
And turned the other cheek.
BUT, when they mocked my poetry
And said it had reached rock bottom,
Well, that was a different matter.
I took out a gun and shot ‘em
28th October 2020
Judged by a jury of your own peers contest
Sponsor - Mark Koplin
It’s Sunday morning, about 8am. My BF Peter and I we’re doing our laundry. Most of the time, we spent in my dorm common room, sitting side by side on a red corduroy couch, while our clothes washed, and then tumbled away in the dryer.
If you want privacy on a college campus, or to do laundry in peace, avoiding the weekend laundry rush, do it before 10am.
"Why do you wear these," Peter asked, pulling and lightly snapping the hairband on my wrist.
I pull my hand back, protectively. "If I don’t have a hairband on my wrist I feel out of control."
There’s a new me. I’d decided - civilized, unemotional, clear-sighted.
"I've got a lot to do before summer,” Peter said earlier, “so I made a spreadsheet.” I felt a shadow pass over me - our future is, at best, undecided. So, I shifted gears, the way the new me is trying to do lately.
“A Spreadsheet!” I said, like I approved, and he grinned. I’d made him happy. This is what adults do, I’d decided, they have civilized conversations where decisions were made or avoided - but there was a small, dark thing in my heart.
I got a text from our dryer saying our clothes were dry, so we headed down. I love the smell of fresh laundry and the feeling of shaved legs against fresh bed sheets - a luxurious combination no guy will ever understand. I made a mental note to shave my legs later.
The last couple of weeks I’ve been working on summer fellowship applications. A successful summer fellowship is one of those things I’ll need when I apply for med-school - like grades, faculty letters, physician recommendations, community service, a great MCAT score, bla bla bla.
My mom knows the 200 things med-schools use to cleave away pretenders and she’ll rattle them off upon request and sometimes over groaning protests.
What I need, ideally, this summer, are clinical experience hours. There’s not much at stake, just my future, the respect of the faculty, and the begrudging acknowledgement of my pre-med peers. My mom was quizzing me on my progress last night. I confirmed that all the applications were in and I ended with, “I haven’t slept with anyone yet, to gain advantage - but we’re still early in the process.”
She was not amused.
Tear by tear, year to year
Day by day
Memories they all fade away
Tear by tear
Voices in my ears
Words may lay
Promises are all there’s left to say
I may wade through volcanic vaults
My peers never picture me painted at a hault
Jaded memories are tainted, lost and caught
A chance given to blow it
A new set of balls, just living to grow it
I’ll never faulter or kneel down to cry at the alter
Through adversity
It seems my surroundings curse at me
And even if I feel an emotional down
I couldn’t bare it in front of you
So much commotion
Just to share something as blunt as the truth
The withered bed our readers have made for us
Through every line, Scritch, scratch, or mixed up batch
They forever adore us
As if their thank you letters or
“Congratulations you put together a good poem,”
Could bore us
What’s worse than being beaten by tabloids?
Extension cords
Checks with giant letters that say “VOID”
Of course baring the voice of being a lord
For never having more than we could afford
Beef and battles
Is better than fagots on relief and saddles
The ocean is open and blue
But nature won’t let you paddle
And perhaps, we’ll die
And for us our peers will forget to say goodbye
Never to be remembered
When we reach those golden gates
Just pray that we are a member
With plates and words in anger flying
My wife and I now deem it best
To cease all our screaming and crying
As I check into the Motel Goodrest
I arrive and plop down for a blissful night
But for two hours a car’s engine revs; varoom!
Above me screeching shouts; a lover’s fight
And the loud thumping of the bed in the next room
A frantic eeeouu; a cayote cat snack?
Now the zzz-zzz of a neon sign on the blink
If I had any brains I’d start to pack!
But I sigh aaah; into slumber I sink
Sun shines through the drapes and onto the wall
There’s splish-splashing in the motel pool
It was a calm, restful night after all
Yipee! Now everything’s cool!
I hear a loud clomp-clomp; what now?
There’s a moo so low and mournful
Through the window peers the eyes of a cow
Looking a bit weary and scornful
I pack and flee as if for my life
Passing the cow whose bell clangs and claps
I check out and meekly return to my wife
And spend the weekend taking naps
7/22/22
Written in Onomatopoeia